A Lesson in the Throes of Violence
by Counterfeit God
Summary: A young Sephiroth has conflicting emotions about his desire for murder. The Devil decides to assist him in this matter and give him a push in the right direction. Sephiroth/Lucifer. Dark. Evil. Don't read if you can't handle dark philosophies. SLASH.
1. Meeting the Devil

A/N: Yes, there is a crazy person out there who decided to pair Sephiroth with The Devil! Don't ask. It was some bizarre idea that I just couldn't shake off. I wanted to show Sephiroth when he was younger, as a teen, and the conflicts I think he would have had, and how he came to deal with them. I think there was a lot more to it than just the labs and Hojo. It takes a lot to make someone a killing machine. I've never seen Sephiroth as an emotionless unfeeling person, in fact it's my guess that as a child and a teen he would have had a lot of problems overcoming his emotions. And...it would have made him cold. However, he wasn't so far gone that he was incapable of making friends (i.e. Angeal and Genesis). But it was enough to set a background for 'crazy' later, when he finally finds 'Mother', something that he thinks loves him...

This will probably be 2 chapters, perhaps three. Sort of depends. Obviously I don't own FFVII, and/or the delectable Sephiroth...unfortunately. It WOULD be nice if people reviewed...given that anonymous reviewing is enabled and all...

* * *

His hair hung in his eyes in wet, grimy strands, its silver sheen dulled somewhat by the constant downpour of harsh rain that pelted down around him. The tangled mass reached mid-back, and gave him an older look than his young, still adolescent face revealed him to truly be.

The ground had ceased to hungrily soak in the water dropping from the sky, leaving a slick mud covered in four inches of water. It sloshed around Sephiroth's ankles as he moved forward, his black boots cutting through the brown and bloody water.

Bodies. More bodies than he had ever seen in one place, strewn about, some in the throws of death while others had long been dead and were beginning to bloat from the wetness they were lying in.

He did not cry; it was not his way. What had been done was done, he had been as prepared for it as was possible. He sighed outwardly at the reflection, the memories it allowed to surface, his eyes closing momentarily as he fought off the emotions he had been trained to hate. He wouldn't think about it.

Emotion was weakness.

He continued his way through the shallow river, not even wincing as he removed his sword from his back and offhandedly stabbed it through a nearby Wutian who was still breathing raggedly. The sound of a sword through clothing and flesh, a gurgle...

Brown eyes looked up pitifully into his own, accusing yet fearful. They darkened quickly.

Sephiroth kept walking, ignoring the way the redness swirled in the brown of the water as the sword grazed the surface on its way to its sheath.

The thoughts wouldn't go away.

He stared down at the water finally, watching the way his boots sent ripples through it. His uniform was soaked; the blue material was more useless than helpful, heavy with water and smelling strongly of that familiar and intoxicating scent of coppery blood.

He focused on that smell, disturbed slightly by the way there was an instant reaction of warmth and a slight hardness in his pants. He was disgusted yet enthralled by it, wondering suddenly just how much of a monster he truly was. Was it normal to feel this way?

He would not ask Hojo; it would lead to more prodding and tests he did not want to participate in.

The way the blood arched through the air when sword severed neck from head... There was something animal about it. Something deep within seemed to awaken in the carnage, a part of himself he had only been exposed to once...

He clenched a gloved hand in anger, realizing too late where the thoughts were leading to, what path they were trying to force him to take.

Not matter what he thought about, he could not stop himself from coming back to that same point. His best, and his worst, that's what it was... Everything ended and began at that place in time.

He picked up the sound of nearby SOLDIERs, glad for the momentary distraction. A few looked his way as they trudged through the water, but none held eye contact, and averted their gazes quickly.

He watched with feigned interest as they moved around him, heading toward the temporary base that had been haphazardly made inside of one of the larger ceremonial huts in the village. They moved clumsily, with little grace, all of them SOLDIERs 3rd class, as he himself was. He would not be 3rd for long, however, not after his superiors learned of his...contribution.

Soon, their footsteps through the muck could not even be heard by Sephiroth's keen hearing. All too quickly he was left alone again, opportunity for his mind to return to those damnable thoughts. Even all of his psychological barriers were no match for the...was it...guilt?

_Masamune, the man who had taught Sephiroth everything he knew. _

_Dead. Blank, expressionless eyes, that thick, beautiful red blood coating Sephiroth's small, black gloved hands. He couldn't help himself, something inside of him begged, __urged__ him to take off those gloves, to taste the luscious liquid of death..._

_Masamune, the man who was as one with the sword as his own body. The old samurai who spent his final years passing on his skill to the child prodigy of Shinra..._

_Oh, and how it tasted... Thick, __perfect__. Like meat, yet not. As addictive as a spoonful of golden honey... Beautiful in its rich, red color and smooth, flawless texture. _

_His emotions were so conflicting; a body consumed by the new feelings of lust, yet a deep, brutal stabbing of guilt... Somehow guilt had made it so much better, so much stronger... _

He snapped back from the memory, his senses sending an immediate warning to his clouded mind. He withdrew his sword without ceremony, spinning around to face the direction he had his back to only a second before.

The sound, it had come from _behind_.

His eyes moved quickly over anything and everything, that intense focus he was known for swiftly pushing all thoughts besides survival out of sight.

Someone was out there.

Sephiroth was farther out than he should have been. He had wandered to the outskirts of the village, which meant a much higher risk of being attacked. It had been foolish of him to forget his surroundings, but he had wished to be alone.

It was only more proof that emotion was weakness. He was allowing himself to be ensnared by it, _drowned_ in it.

His head wretched to the left, his green, cat-like eyes seeing the flick of a long, black coat disappear behind a copse of young trees.

He neared the place warily, making no attempt at hiding himself as he knew he had already been seen.

There was a short, deep laugh, and the swishing of expensive, lined fabric.

Immediately Sephiroth turned, his sword making a silver line as it streamed out and hit...air.

Whoever it was had been behind him. He had heard breathing, yet there was nothing there, no movement of water that indicated what he had known he had heard.

His eyes, bright with the thought of violence, narrowed defiantly.

The downpour had slowed to a sprinkle by then, making visibility almost perfect. Sephiroth's eyes scanned his surroundings again, his hearing so magnified that he could detect the barely discernable 'tink' of tiny droplets of water hitting the hardened steel of the katana he carried.

Another laugh, the feeling of a rush of wind going past his right. Sephiroth lashed out, again too late by only milliseconds. Still, there was no sign that anyone had been near him; the water was still. Sephiroth held back a snarl, frustrated and shocked that something could move so fast that he could not see it. He quieted the anger rising in his chest, easily crushing it with the self-control and stubbornness that was becoming trademark.

He waited. His body stilled completely, and the water no longer made ripples about his booted feet.

He whirled around the second he felt fingertips snatch up a thick lock of hair. Again, steel met nothing.

The first thought that came to mind was 'magick'. Someone was toying with him. Sephiroth's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He was not one to be made a fool, under any circumstances.

Hot breath touched his ear, causing yet another unwanted emotion through the youth's body. He growled, swinging to the side just in case there was someone there (there wasn't), while simultaneously checking for any sign of movement beyond him. Nothing moved, no sign was given of someone nearby.

"Enjoying the game?" a voice said, etched with amusement and something else...something Sephiroth didn't recognize. The voice, like the laugh, was deep, and nothing like the teen had ever heard.

The first thing he noticed was that it came from no particular direction, it was simply _there_, as odd as it was. Not close, not far away...definitely magick.

"I am far different than that." This time it came directly from behind, the speaker's breath close enough to move Sephiroth's hair and tickle at his neck.

Sephiroth's sword spoke for him, slashing through the air as he moved to turn, but was easily deflected. The sword was ripped from Sephiroth's grip, and sent floating aimlessly in the air. There should have been a visible force-field of magic, but he could see no dim, telltale cloud, or feel the power of the telekinesis that should have radiated from the sword.

Weaponless, Sephiroth only glared hatefully at the man that stood before him, ready to attack with his body as a weapon.

"Now, now," the man said, his dark eyes alight with amusement, and his thin lips curled up slightly at the corners.

His hair was shining and black, seemingly unaffected by the rain, the plush strands reaching to just above the man's chest. His face was narrow, almost gaunt-looking, with very light skin that easily rivaled Sephiroth's own, and lips that looked unhealthily discolored and whitish. It seemed as if there was no blood beneath the surface of his face; no slight reddish coloration of health showed on the strangely white skin.

He wore a long black coat that hung just above the water. He was tall, Septhiroth noted, probably a over six feet, dwarfing the five foot eight inch 3rd class. He was also a lot bigger in build than Sephiroth, with broader shoulders, while at the same time long-limbed, almost as Sephiroth himself was.

Sephiroth was actually one of the smaller 3rds, but knew that he had yet to really hit the peak of puberty height-wise as his peers had. He was not intimidated by the size of the man before him, nor by the strength and wiseness that seemed to seep from his very being.

"You would attack me before I even have the opportunity to tell you I am friend, not foe?"

Sephiroth watched the man, focusing on the eyes, which he knew would give the first sign of bluff. It was when he noticed that the dark eyes weren't brown as he had assumed, but some sort of maroon-like color. They were...animal.

"If you are friend, then you will return me my sword," Sephiroth stated flatly, his eyes flicking to the weapon that still hung above them.

"Of course," the man answered, his strange features clouded with a look Sephiroth did not understand.

The sword flitted quickly into the hands of the dark-haired man.

Sephiroth's posture would have stiffened, but he forced himself to remain unaffected.

He watched intently as the man's long, white fingers carefully encircled it, elegantly gripping onto the metal of it rather than the handle. The sharpness of it easily cut through the thin skin of the man's bone-white hands, sending a small trail of red down the reflective metal.

Sephiroth continued to remain still, though his eyes betrayed his fascination as he watched the trail descend like a miniature river all the way down to the black hilt.

He could feel the saliva pooling in his mouth, but did not give any indication of it.

The man extended the sword to Sephiroth, the end still pointed toward himself.

Sephiroth's instinct was 'trap', however, he carefully picked over the man's stance, the set of his shoulders, the distance his feet were set apart... Nothing revealed any malicious intent, though Sephiroth waited for a few seconds. He stared unwaveringly into the man's eyes, his own turned to narrow slits of distrust.

Finally, Sephiroth snatched the sword from the man, allowing a thin smile to reach his lips. He was glad to again feel the familiar weight in his hand.

"See? I mean no harm to you. In fact, I wish only to speak to you, if you wouldn't mind humoring me."

Sephiroth only stared back blankly, his barriers back in place, and superiority running through his veins. "Fine," he said emotionlessly, deciding he really had no other alternative.

"You like that?" The man inquired, gesturing toward the sword.

Sephiroth's eyes darted to the steel. "Yes."

"It's normal, you know."

"What?" Sephiroth replied, trying to sound disinterested, though he felt a heat wash over his body for some reason.

"To want what you want. To seek death and find peace in dealing it out. To desire violence, lust for..." he ceased talking for a moment, his strange eyes focusing on the red running down the youth's sword. "–blood," he finished.

"What would you know about it," Sephiroth stated more than questioned, his intelligent eyes giving nothing away of the instant turmoil that lurched inside his stomach and chest.

"Everything," the man said enigmatically, smiling. The look would have been unnerving had Sephiroth not seen Hojo's cruel smile for his entire young life. "I am a dealer of death myself."

When Sephiroth did not reply, the man continued: "It is the way of things, death. Inevitability. Others die so that some may live. Without death, this world would be nothing, people would have nothing to fight for."

Sephiroth's head bowed slightly in acknowledgment, his eyes searching the face of the man who voiced his inner thoughts.

"Animals lust for the kill, revel in it. Predators taste the blood in their mouths for that first time then remain forever haunted by it for the rest of their lives. So why should we not take pleasure in it ourselves, become the wielders of fate?" The man was still smiling his unsettling smile, seemingly unaware of the effect his words were having on the youth standing in front of him.

"You are _made_ for it." Sephiroth internally flinched at those words. "You are intended for this purpose. You are still an animal underneath the surface of all of this supposed, _humanity_," The man said the last word with emphasis, clasping his hands behind his back as he continued, much like a teacher giving a lecture. "It is an integral part of human nature, violence. As much as people claim to desire peace, it is in discord that their lives are fueled. Were it not for discontent and hatred, there would be nothing left."

"I'm sure many would doubt that claim," Sephiroth asserted, watching the man's posture suspiciously. He did not like that the man held his hands behind his back.

"I'm sure they would," he agreed. "However, you don't, do you? And that is what makes you different. If you acknowledge the faults of the world, accept them for what they are, you can go a universe beyond all others."

"What do you mean?"

"It is in this urge you have, this _desire_ for violence, that you will be set free. Become what humans once were, what they are _supposed_ to be."

"You mean animal," Sephiroth said, casting a look down at the bloodied sword.

The man positively grinned, his eyes catching a light that wasn't there. "Precisely."

Sephiroth finally voiced what he had been secretly thinking, deciding that being blunt was the best approach; the man seemed to speak what he thought, and would likely appreciate truth rather than cleverness. "What do you want of me?"

The man laughed, short at first, then heartily.

Sephiroth's look soured, then his eyes narrowed. The man's hand reached out, but Sephiroth flinched and moved back quickly, out of reach.

The man shook his head, his face still as colorless as ever. "I said before that I mean you no harm."

"Yes, but no one just toys with someone simply to talk," Sephiroth said flatly.

"Ah, suspicious, ever vigilant. It will serve you well in future," the man said offhandedly, again smiling. "What I want is to help you."

"I don't see what you could help me with," Sephiroth answered, his grip tightening on his katana.

"Oh, but don't you? You feel guilt for what you've done, for _something_. You wander through the battlefield like a ghost instead of a gloating victor high on his own doings."

"You were watching me," Sephiroth accused, his voice going to a low tone.

"You are...an interesting creature. You have so much potential. To see such a lovely thing that is not pleased with its work, that has doubts about it...I simply cannot allow it."

"Who says that I have doubts?"

"Would you deny it, then? You take joy in the kill yet do not show the same enthusiasm in its aftereffects."

Sephiroth's bright eyes darkened for a moment, but he said nothing.

"You are a predator, beautiful in every way. You are at your best when you compliment your own design in these bloody sacrifices." The man gestured to a nearby body. "It is in this that you will find yourself, nothing else. You hunger for understanding, to be the same as the others, when you are _better_ than them."

Sephiroth was wary of how much the man appeared to know. It was eery in fact, but he brushed it aside for the time being.

"The things that complete them, love, companionship, friendship, they are _nothing_ to you. You are beyond that, truly different from all others in that you do not _need_ such things. To kill, that is what will make you complete, that is where solace can be found from this displeasure with yourself."

Sephiroth's gaze was again accusing. He did not like how easily the man was reading him, or he reflected, how accurately.

"I do not hate what there is after the kill..." Sephiroth said, not quite believing what he was thinking of saying to this stranger.

"No? Then what is it that you hate? What is it that prevents you from taking what is rightfully yours from this experience?"

"I...feel wrong. I take pleasure even in killing someone...close to me."

"The past then, is it? You fret over something inconsequential! There is nothing dirty or wrong in what you do. Wrong, after all, is merely a matter of perspective. Killing those that _should _mean something to you is the sure way to becoming free. It means you have gone beyond petty, nonexistent morality." The man stepped closer to Sephiroth, though this time Sephiroth did not back away.

"There is nothing wrong in blood. As I said, it is the way of things," the man stated, watching Sephiroth closely. "You are all that matters in this world, everyone else takes the wayside."

"I know you are right," Sephiroth whispered, surprised that he had spoken the words aloud, and how quickly he felt akin to this stranger.

"You already knew these things; I'm certain you did." The man gave a reassuring smile. "Allow that lust for blood to consume you, let it be your completion, the undying love that quenches your soul."

Sephiroth's thoughts were consuming him. He stared up at those maroon eyes, his inner darkness quelled by what he saw there. It was true, he thought, he _was_ different. He had known, had always known...

* * *

A/N: I tried to not make this move too fast, but might have failed miserably. How do you all feel about slash?


	2. The Untrusting

**A/N:** HUGE thanks to CornCob and ghost of gene rayburn for reviewing. Anyone else reading have them to thank for me getting this out so quickly. This chapter...made me realize JUST what I am getting myself into here. I said 2-3 chapters before. Now we're looking at...4-5 maybe... The whole Sephiroth/Lucifer slash...it's so difficult to get it going without me feeling like it's too rushed. This chapter is slow at parts, but I did my best to try and 'set the stage' for the smut that's inevitable at this point. And just in case, know that I am VERY rusty on my FFVII knowledge. There may be errors in the timeline or...well any of it for that matter. But for the sake of this story...consider it AU.

Anyone notice that the sword 'Masamune' is conspiciously missing?

Disclaimer: Sephiroth is not mine! Neither is Lucifer, but I plan on exploiting his evilness for the sake of this fic!

* * *

It was dark in his cabin. He shifted under the sheets, his eyes closing as he searched for rest.

It had been a few days since his encounter with that man, that strange, inexplicable man. Thoughts of Masamune had left him entirely, instead replaced with a slight feeling of acceptance, even...curiosity.

He was not one to dwell on people; he had given them up long ago. Just a few months ago, however, he hadn't been able to quiet the part of him, that childish part, that searched for acceptance, somewhere, somehow. If he couldn't have friends, then he had hoped he could at least be accepted by his peers.

While other SOLDIERs immersed themselves in their personal lives while on holiday from Shinra or as quietly as possible in their bunks, Sephiroth had been back in the labs, being tested like an animal. He knew nothing of what it was like to be with someone, on any level. Human beings seemed to mean nothing but one thing to him: pain.

Masamune, the one person he had truly felt _cared_ for him on some level, had died by _his_ hand. He had murdered Masamune, his teacher, the one person who thought he was something besides just a weapon.

He hadn't cried when he did it. In fact, he hadn't felt anything he was supposed to feel _while_ doing it. It had been hard to accept, Masamune's words, but he _had_ accepted them. Once he acknowledged that it had to be done, everything fell into place.

"_I want you to kill me, Sephiroth,"_ he had said. Those hard, brown eyes had looked at him, searched his own green eyes for signs of weakness, the briefest flickers of emotion. And Sephiroth, for once in his life, had let the old man down. He had said 'no'.

He had disobeyed, at first.

"_Your training is complete. I have no more purpose now, and I wish to be ended properly, like a true samurai. I refuse to die in my bed like an ailing pet."_

Somehow, Sephiroth had understood. It had sickened him a little then, when he realized he wanted to know what it was like. What it _meant_ to kill.

In the lab he had killed his fair share of fiends, but he had never had the opportunity to kill something that rivaled himself in both intelligence and skill. The thought had been...exhilarating. Killing something...human.

He had everything against human beings, nothing against the fiends. Perhaps that was what made the two acts so different. He felt he had _reason_ to destroy humanity. That dark part, buried so deep inside his young heart, had begun the irreversible process of making him completely...cold. He felt somehow, secretly, that murder was the one way he would be able to even the score, prove not only to Shinra, but to himself that he was worth something. He would not die unknown, he would _be _something.

The guilt that had been eating at his conscience had finally been put to rest. Something inside him whispered that he would never feel that emotion again, that he had reached a new state of being. He was _beyond_ guilt. The man...he had helped bring about the change in him. Sephiroth had felt so unsure, but the man knew, he had experienced the same things, so he had said.

Sephiroth had no feelings any longer about the murder of Masamune; it was simply another step in the process, the evolution, and it had to be done. Masamune finally had his wish: Sephiroth was finally accepting his path...

His eyes moved behind their lids, his mind captured in a dream of black hair and rain pouring from the sky.

A silent shadow passed over his bed, moving closer, unseen and unheard, watching the slow rhythmic rise and decline of his small chest beneath the blankets. The stranger extended his hand so he could briefly touch the silken strands strewn across the white cotton of the pillow.

"Sleep now," he whispered quietly, as Sephiroth's angelic face contorted with confusion at something going on in his dream. "You will need it now, more than ever, for the morrow comes..."

He observed the teen, enjoying how the trained muscles of his face betrayed him in his sleep, fully expressive as Sephiroth would not allow them to be while he was awake and in control.

"For my one winged angel will leave a wake of chaos and blood and screams behind..."

He did not laugh, for fear of waking the boy, but he smiled, his inhuman eyes reflecting in the darkness like a predator's.

* * *

It was afternoon. Sephiroth was riding in transport like the other 3rds. It was a large caravan covered in typical dull-green military canvas, where everyone was shoulder to shoulder in the cramped quarters.

Dim light filtered in through the spaces and few rips in the canvas, playing white strips across the tired faces of fully-armed SOLDIERs.

Sephiroth was jammed into a corner, and didn't seem to notice how the others seated beside him were doing everything in their power not to jostle against him with every small bump and shake of the truck. Some openly gaped at him, having heard of his...pursuits...of the previous day.

Sephiroth ignored all of them, filtered out their mundane conversations that meant nothing to him. They spoke for reasons he didn't understand. Small talk was utterly lost on the misanthropic teen, as was interest at all in any of his peers or their lives. They were all nervous and talking in quick, hushed voices that for some reason irritated him.

It was colder here, further in the mountains than the other village had been. Sephiroth's exceptional hearing could already make out the sounds of warfare in the distance, the blasting of a clip by a few well-placed Turks on the battlefield, the high screams of women being butchered. Children screaming. It was these sounds that he focused on. He must learn them, for these were the sounds of the one thing that could make him whole, the one thing that separated him from all others: death.

He had thought quite a bit about his feelings toward murder. The one conclusion he had drawn was that it was pleasurable to him the way talking to a friend was enjoyable to someone else. His was an entirely different medium, however, in essence they were similar. It just so happened his newly found 'purpose' was not one that was openly accepted the way socializing was.

SOLDIER was to be his release, his _freedom_. He had something now, he realized, for the first time in his short young life.

The other 3rds filtered out of the truck at a trickle, not exactly thrilled at the idea that the day could be the one in which they met their death.

Sephiroth jumped off of the tailgate, landing softly and elegantly. Several SOLDIERs stumbled past him, shaky and nervous, their brows already drenched in sweat. He watched them slap each other on the back and flash each other reassuring smiles that did not reach their eyes.

"Sephiroth," one of the 2nds said, approaching the stoic form of the boy.

"Sir?" he questioned, ignoring the looks of the few straggling 3rds as they eyed him jealously.

"You've been stationed with Graves and Valik."

This was strange news, given that Graves and Valik were 2nds, however, Sephiroth said nothing of it. His performance had not gone unnoticed, apparently.

"You must be Sephiroth. I'm Graves, good to see you, soldier." A short, stocky man who had been milling around behind the 2nd who was now walking away, extended a hand. Sephiroth stared down at it, then back at Graves's face.

Sephiroth gave a curt nod of his head, not at all in the mood for introductions, and forgetting that he was supposed to take the hand extended to him.

Graves pulled his hand back awkwardly, his look a bit ruffled, and his stubbled jaw set tightly. "Well, I guess we better get going. Follow me, Valik's this way."

* * *

The landscape was heavily covered in thick, hunter green trees. The village itself was planted on the outskirts of the large forest that extended up onto the slopes of the nearby mountain range. They were plush and healthy from the constant wetness of the area due to frequent snowfall.

Their breath rose in plumes as they walked quietly, on the edge of the skirmishes taking place in the village. They were going toward the east, where smuggled missiles had been coming from at frequent intervals. The Wutians had gotten a hold of some of the supplies from one of Shinra's smaller, temporary bases, and were relentlessly hammering down on the SOLDIERs that had invaded their village.

Several trucks carrying the men, as well as the supplies for warfare, had been easily targeted and destroyed as they had come up the small, badly maintained roads. It was for this reason that Sephiroth, Graves, and Valik had been sent on foot.

Graves was quiet during the walk, while Valik chattered on in a voice laced with fear and apprehension. Sephiroth made no indication that he heard what Valik was saying, his senses focused elsewhere, particularly on the forest they were walking alongside.

It would be so easy for something to hide amongst those trees...

The nervous 2nd seemed to show no signs of ceasing his talking, even after a few more minutes of walking. If Valik wasn't quiet soon, they would definitely be heard.

"Would you just shut up, man!" Graves said, a little too loudly. It seemed he too was aware of the dangers of making too much noise. His face was red suddenly, making it clear that he had been holding back for a while. "This is war, not a fucking goddamned tea party!" he said, in almost a shout, rounding on Valik who suddenly looked very worried.

Sephiroth continued moving, instinct telling him that staying with them was not an option. That's when he heard it, a familiar click, barely discernable through the not-so-quiet voices of the two arguing 2nds.

He immediately dove for the ground, not even bothering to shout a warning to the other two. The sound of a high-powered rifle echoed off of the landscape. It was followed by the piercing 'boom' of a second shot. Sephiroth didn't see, but _heard_, two bodies drop.

He rose to his feet, calculating the risk, and deciding to take it. The trees were right there.

He ran, for all he was worth, his feet pounding into the soft soil, as he worked toward the trees. His breath trailed behind him, while the coldness of the wind harshly rushed upon his solemn face. He zigzagged all the way, unwilling to make an easy target of himself.

A shot hurtled past, close, but not close enough.

Sephiroth knew that the sniper would only be guessing soon, as he flew into the line of trees. His grace served him well as he leapt over fallen logs and uprooted trees, at a speed that was probably inhuman.

It was much like an obstacle course, trying to put distance between him and the shooter. The trees would easily block the bullets' path, if he could make it far enough.

Another shot, far off to Sephiroth's right hit a small sapling, snapping it in half with ease. It appeared that the Wutians had more than just stolen missiles.

Like Sephiroth had predicted, the next few shots were terribly misplaced, and nowhere near him.

It was ten minutes before Sephiroth slowed. He had already began to double back, curving in a circle to the path he had ran. He would walk more to the east, and perhaps cut the sniper from his path entirely.

It would be much simpler without others to slow down his pace or ruin his stealth. He enjoyed confrontation in battle, but this would be the first time he would have to make his way slowly, with much more forethought.

Graves had given him a relative idea of where the missiles had been coming from; Sephiroth was confident he would find them with ease anyway, given that they weren't exactly the quietest weapon on the battlefield. He needed to be swift about it though, or else there could be many more transports lost if Shinra stubbornly continued to send troops.

When he made his way to the edge of the tree line, Sephiroth waited patiently. He observed enemy movement for several moments before selecting his path.

The missiles had not been fired in some time, likely because the transports were halted for the time being. It was the building made of the more modern brick, that captured his attention. Men seemed to be coming in and out of it frequently, and it _did_ have windows. It could possibly be where the attacks originated from.

He moved silently, making his way through the small huts sparsely placed throughout the area. There was a surprisingly low amount of troops, which made him guess that they had sent most of them to take on the SOLDIERs. Unfortunately for them, it left the area Sephiroth occupied very vulnerable.

His blood was heating already, as he watched a pony-tailed man wander over toward where he was hidden.

The man walked past the hut Sephiroth was leaned against, not even hearing as the teen moved behind him.

He did not have time to scream as the blade Sephiroth carried sliced through the front of his neck, half severing his head. Blood pumped furiously out of the wound, spattering the sword as well as Sephiroth's gloved hands. He held onto the shoulders of the corpse, then repositioned one of his arms underneath the armpit to get a better grip. He carefully dragged it toward the back of the hut, where he unceremoniously dropped it.

It would be easy to rid these people of their lives.

* * *

The bloodlust was overpowering. At times he almost felt completely out of control, consumed by it, as the man had said.

Each time his sword met flesh, something in him screamed in triumph, feeding his power. Each swing had new calculations behind it. His movements had _experience_ behind them now. It was a lesson learned, each death, and the high never grew dull or less intense. Each murder was beautiful, _perfect_, just as the previous...and the next would undoubtably be.

Sephiroth did not see the man perched upon the brick building, his eyes aflame like hellfire. The man would only be seen if he _wanted_ to be seen. And for the moment the man deemed the view too good to give any indication of his presence.

The angel slashed through body after body, his eyes holding an insanity that made the man smile knowingly. It was an art to this one-winged angel, a dance even. He moved fluidly like a predator instead of a stumbling human being. So much skill, so much focus...

He could _feel_ the rage and exhilaration Sephiroth was utterly lost in, each time blood was sent in lovely sheets through the air. The ground was painted red, yet the youth showed no signs of stopping, and in fact quickened his pace as more enemies approached him.

The man had taken care of the sniper long ago, wanting to see just what Sephiroth planned to do with his newfound power. Yes, it was...beautiful. If anything deserved such a title, it was the death bringing angel with the godly silver hair and wicked blade. His fury matched any god's.

Death was the great equalizer, after all. Not only did it make every living thing equal in the sense of life having to end, it also allowed something as volatile and weak as a human being achieve a godly status. They had always wanted so badly to control their universe, and death was the weapon in which such things could be achieved.

He descended from the roof, walking to the teen who was finally without enemy. Sephiroth had picked the pathetically guarded area clean.

Sephiroth's eyes betrayed emotion for a moment as he saw the man approach. It had been a look of hopefulness, curiosity even.

"I see you have taken my words to heart." Distrust, ever present, flashed in Sephiroth's eyes, overtaking whatever had been there before, as he suspiciously watched the man.

"I did," he said in a clipped tone, not allowing the sudden and strange fluttering in his chest to show outwardly. What was happening to him? Why was he feeling this way? Sephiroth focused on smothering whatever was going on in his body, but could do nothing to stop the tightening in his groin that had started at the sight of blood, and worsened at the sight of the stranger.

The man cast an appreciative glance at the bloodied stumps that used to be men, before turning his gaze back to Sephiroth. The boy's face was flushed slightly, and the man knew, not from exertion...

"Well-executed. If you were not worthy in your own eyes, you must be now."

Sephiroth would have frowned, but instead he did nothing, desperately trying to stifle all of the emotions the man seemed to so easily evoke in him. It was so easy to be blank to anyone else, so why did he have so much difficulty hiding his feelings from this man?

"You are...very unique. I have never seen a grace like yours before. The way you kill, it would make even the most bitter, aged samurai, weep from its perfection." The man kicked a decapitated head, causing it to roll toward Sephiroth's feet.

Had Sephiroth been anyone else, his face would have dusted with red from the frankly-spoken words, but instead he stared down at the brown, lifeless eyes of the head that looked up at him. It had eyes like Masamune's.

"You took pride in it, I can see it in your face."

Sephiroth looked up, catching those maroon eyes with his own. He was quiet for a moment, choosing his words with care.

"It was...like you said: I am whole." Sephiroth hated that he said it, but he could not stop the words from leaving his mouth. That desperate childish part of him had somehow resurfaced from its drowning and was back to dog his steps once again. Something in him wanted that man to appreciate him, to keep looking at him with that unwavering approval and acceptance in his eyes.

Sephiroth knew nothing of the man, yet his instincts told him the man was what he said, the same as Sephiroth, lost without death, without confrontation and challenge. To be even slightly admired by someone, someone who _understood_...it almost hurt to think about.

All his life he had never been good enough, never kept up to the standards set for him by Hojo. It was constant disapproval, harassment for not measuring against the 'vision' of what Hojo intended.

Recently he had been praised since joining SOLDIER, told how good he was, for once in his life. For some reason, those words had not affected him. Perhaps because he did not care for the ones who spoke them. The men were normal, mediocre at best, stuck on the same things that the younger SOLDIERs were. Forged in weakness. To have an equal praise him...it was an entirely different thing.

He respected this man, for reasons he could not understand. Instinct _told_ Sephiroth that this man was equal, if not superior to him.

"Ah. There it is you see, the thing every person seeks, to fill that empty void that resides in each of us. It is so much better to fill it for oneself than to crawl through life trying to find someone to do it for you," the man said, his bizarre grin revealing his abnormally pointed teeth.

"And now that it is filled?" Sephiroth questioned, resisting the urge to step away as the man bridged the distance between them. He held his ground.

Sephiroth could feel the hot breath wafting down at him from the man standing only a step away, smell its characteristic scent. It was like the heated breath of a predator, a fiend even, halfway between vile yet almost intoxicating for the slight edge of coppery blood to it. It was the smell of something that hunted, buried its head into raw flesh and ripped it off in large, messy chunks. Animal.

"That is up for you to decide," he said, pretending not to notice the effect he was causing by standing so close to the boy. "First, you must decide what you want, _choose_."

Sephiroth lowered his head, stealing a look at the brown eyes on the ground, before pushing the severed head with the tip of his boot, so that it was directly on the man's feet. The man smiled, raising his foot above the head, before bringing it crashing down, in a mess of brains, skull, and hair.

"I want to be the best," Sephiroth confessed, looking down at the grotesquely defiled head.

"And what a thing that is to aspire to," the man answered, using his right boot to flick a piece of skull off of his left. "For anyone else that is nothing but a dream. Unreachable, unattainable, as most human desires tend to be. But for you, for you..." He paused for a moment, his attention seemingly captured by the crushed head as much as Sephiroth's.

"You notice that many praise others for finishing second? There is often a saying said about this, something to the effect of, 'there will always be someone better'. This is pitiful human acceptance of shortcomings, people afraid of facing reality. Likely the reason depression can be so helpful in bring people down to earth," he said with a light laugh.

"What I mean, is that accepting this idea that 'there is always someone better', it is a solid acknowledgment that the feat is something that you _personally_, are incapable of. There is nothing wrong with knowing one's limits, but there _is_ something wrong with believing that somehow those 'first place' types will _always_ be there. You cannot know until you try."

Sephiroth was carefully slowing down his breathing, which unfortunately, due to the hormone changes in his young body, was coming in a rush from standing so close to the man. That fluttering was growing worse every second. He was slightly disgusted with himself, yet at the same time curious about his reaction to the stranger.

He was feeling sexual attraction, he knew it now. But this was a _man_. Sure, the other SOLDIERs occasionally used each other to get off, but it never meant anything, it's not like they would have done it were there suitable women around...

How could he even be feeling something sexual? He hadn't thought himself capable. He did his best the push the emotions as far down as he could, before finally speaking.

"And if I fail?" Sephiroth said quietly, his tone serious.

"The reason things are so unreachable for others is because they allow it to be. They never take the time to first understand _then_ attempt. It is stupidity to try your hand at something before you have yet to even fully grasp the concept of it. And unfortunately for them, they do not have the intelligence to even begin to understand the things they so desire. But you understand killing. You have _bathed_ yourself in its gifts... You are already halfway there."

"But I can still fall in failure," Sephiroth asserted, his gaze hardening slightly at the thought.

"No, I do not believe that of you." The man's hand latched onto Sephiroth's shoulder, the grip tight, but not painful. The boy visibly flinched, and his body stiffened, though he did not make a move to throw the hand off.

Sephiroth's look was uncomfortable as he spoke. "You do not know me," he said. "I have failed before." Those words instantly made him think of Masamune, and caused him to glace at the disaster that used to be a human head, in paranoia.

_I failed him_, Sephiroth's mind seemed to say.

"I know you better than you could ever believe," the man said, his eyes intently watching the slits of Sephiroth's greenish eyes.

The slits narrowed dangerously, and the words the boy spoke were laced with suspicion. "How?" He seemed to have bristled under the man's grip, more tense than ever.

"Because I was much like you once... I aspired to be something, someone, to tear myself from all the chains binding me to mediocrity. I, like you, wished to pursue a path that allowed me to be my own master, my own god."

"And did you succeed?" Sephiroth said, the muscles of his shoulders still tight beneath the surface of his dark blue uniform.

The man smiled, his thumb tracing over a silver lock that spilled over the boy's shoulder.

"I did. It was not...quite what I expected, however, it was welcome, it was _freedom_."

Sephiroth's eyes had softened slightly, though he still glanced at the hand with distrust.

"Who are you?" Sephiroth asked, hating the heat that seemed to be spreading from that invasive hand and further warming places he didn't dare think about.

"Who am I? Oh, if only you knew what a loaded question that is..." The man twirled section of the silver hair between his fingertips, enjoying the soft, smooth feel of it.

"Don't," Sephiroth breathed in warning, his small hand pushing the man from him by the chest, abruptly.

The man's hand withdrew without question, and his gaunt face became thoughtful as he glanced at the small hand that was pulling away from his black coat.

"I unnerve you; I apologize..."

Sephiroth's look had become hateful, though it was only a mask for the extreme awareness of his body that had flooded his brain.

The man had touched his hair... Something about the gesture was too personal, it instantly frightened Sephiroth. No one had ever touched any part of him in a way that wasn't businesslike or without malicious intent. The thought of it was foreign somehow. It made him nervous and suspicious. If life had taught him one thing, it was that people did not do things without reason, without some sort of reward in it for themselves...

"I meant nothing," the man stated, his dark eyes conveying reassurance. He sighed when Sephiroth's stance did not change. "We are...much alike you and I. I see you and I see myself. As I said, I want to help you."

"You mean you want to help _yourself_," Sephiroth stated bluntly, struggling with all of his mental capacity to swallow down the emotion that kept spiking inside of him and traveling down to his most ignored bodypart.

"Ever the cynic," the man said with a laugh. "No, I want to help _you_. I want _you_ to succeed. If you want the selfish side of it, it thrills me to see something with such a penchant for death. You are, as I've said, unique, and that intrigues me. At the same time I want you to reach your potential. I have reached my own, and now I'd like to pass on the torch, so to speak."

Sephiroth said nothing, trying to gauge the stranger, to decide if it was all one carefully-constructed lie.

"You must see what I see," he said, taking in Sephiroth's perfect, youthful face. "I want you to _know_--not think--_-know _just how magnificent you really are, how superior. I can see already that you doubt yourself; your words suggest it, even after you have accepted your..." he gestured to the corpses lying around, "talents."

"But..." Sephiroth looked to the ground, hating his own vulnerability, cursing himself for it.

The man's hand snaked out again, this time grabbing onto Sephiroth's chin. The teen drew back from the contact, but the man stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"You have nothing to fear in me," he said, leaning down toward Sephiroth's face, his hot breath ghosting across the sensitive, and all too aware skin of the boy's neck.

Sephiroth felt paralyzed, his mind seemed to be pulling him in all directions, one a warning the other...excitement. Part of him reveled in the closeness, this person, someone, another being, that was willingly choosing to be close to him. He wanted to close his eyes and enjoy the strangeness of it, but the SOLDIER in him, and the animal, were fully alert, prepared for the worst.

"No," he whispered, taking a halfhearted step away.

"You fear that comfort is weakness?" the man said, his eyes intense with a look that Sephiroth was only beginning to understand was desire.

"I..." Sephiroth wanted to scream in unadulterated fury at the conflict going on inside of him, but his control wouldn't allow for it.

His mind kept repeating: _people mean pain_.

"There is no shame in _wanting_ something. There is only shame in _needing_ it. That is what separates independence from dependence," the man stated, his voice a little deeper than usual. "And you _want_ something, don't you?"

* * *

**A/N:** Lucifer's balls are going to fall off by the end of this, I swear...


	3. Caught in the Spider's Web

**A/N:** In case you didn't know, I update at around...3:00 in the morning, it seems. That is why I'm hoping that the people reading will forgive me for the mean ending of this chapter, since I was too tired to edit some gargantuan piece of literature. I apologize. I was going to orginally include this chapter with the next chapter, and post it as one, but somehow the whole 'smut' bit went overboard (like 8 pages...) so I decided to cut it off where I did so that I could work on the other part, because I'm sitting here thinking how the hell did I write about 6 of those pages as sex? It's a mystery, even to me. Something happens late at night while half asleep...

Sephiroth is still stand-offish in this chapter, just a warning if anyone was hoping he'd leap into Lucifer's arms or something... He will the next chapter! No leaping though...

I snagged the name 'Aristide Torchia' from the film **The Ninth Gate**. Aristide is the character in the movie who authored a book alongside the Devil (it was a riddle on how to get into Hell to meet Lucifer) and was later burned to death with his works. I thought it was fitting.

CornCob: Yep, I'm a totally sick-minded. Glad to know I'm not the only one ;D

ghost of gene rayburn: Thank you for that correction, I completely missed it!

* * *

Sephiroth took a few more steps back, this time more certain, though he was not far enough for the hand to drop from his shoulder. The man's words had cut something, broken down some internal barrier that held back the toxic self hatred that Sephiroth wanted to rid himself of entirely. He felt exposed—weak. Yes, it was true, he _did_ want something.

"Your life has made you so wary, and with good reason. But what I offer, it cannot harm you if it means nothing to you but momentary enjoyment... Unless of course..." The man smiled, somewhat evilly, his penetrating eyes searching green for what he knew was buried somewhere deep.

_I need it instead of want it_, Sephiroth finished mentally. And he needed, somewhere, he _needed_. That need was beginning to choke him the longer that tantalizing hand continued to rest on his shoulder, further antagonizing his young, and far too interested body.

The hand again reached for the streaming silver, and began to stroke it covetously between long-nailed white fingers, as Sephiroth's sea-green eyes widened.

"You..." Sephiroth started, still extremely tense from the contact, his face turning away as if to escape the closeness of the hand.

"Want to fuck you, yes," the man said without ceremony.

Sephiroth swallowed, that self disgust coiling inside and squeezing his control hatefully. Why could he not get a hold on himself? It was if the man had drained what little self respect Sephiroth had, exposing the needy, love-starved child beneath.

That defiant gleam flashed in the youth's eyes, making the man chuckle lowly. The boy, as far as he could tell, was not going to make it easy. However, the man had never been one to back down from the so-called 'undoable'.

"You still haven't told me who you are," Sephiroth stated, his facial expression made harsh by his sudden reigning in of his pride.

"Changing the subject? Oh, it's no matter, I won't hold it against you," he added, upon seeing the teen's murderous look. "My name is Aristide Torchia. I'm more of a ruler now than a warrior, but I can assure you that I...did many things to get to such a position."

"I've never heard of you," Sephiroth said rudely, feigning irritation at the hand that was continuing to drive him mad.

Sephiroth knew little of the outside world but what aged textbooks had taught him (he had skipped over many of SOLDIERs preliminary classes), so if there was a ruler named Aristide Torchia, it wouldn't be impossible that he hadn't heard of him. There were many smaller factions throughout Wutai, and even elsewhere, that kept very low key, and consequently out of Shinra's grasp for the time being. Fortunately, Sephiroth knew that the man would not know of his...sterile upbringing and lack of knowledge regarding current world politics.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't have. It's good sign that you haven't, in fact, it means I'm doing my job, and doing it _well_."

The fingers curled around a strand, flicking it back and forth between thumb and forefinger.

Sephiroth's alertness had not softened, either in his loose uniform pants or in attentiveness to danger.

"You see, not all of us wish to be so known. Sometimes the most rewarding fame is in knowing that you may slip by unnoticed, no one the wiser, as you complete your dreadful deeds without suspicion. I'm guessing you would prefer to be known, yes? After all, being the best generally entails popularity, does it not? Infamy or otherwise..." Aristide seemed amused by his own words, and enjoying the reaction he was getting from the young Sephiroth.

"I do," Sephiroth replied emotionlessly. The hand had released the strand and was beginning to explore the base of his neck through the material of his uniform.

"To pay them back, correct?" The man slipped a finger under the collar of the blue jacket, loving the way the vein on the boy's neck stood out and the cords tightened in discomfort.

"Yes," Sephiroth answered, barely paying attention to what he had just said. The finger was moving slowly, back and forth across the smooth skin. His loose pants were beginning to feel constraining; he hoped it wasn't glaringly obvious.

"I see." Aristide, too, was focusing on the movements of his fingers, starting out feather-light, as he made tiny circles, his sharp, talon-like nails being as gentle as they were capable.

A thunderous 'boom' resounded through the huts, and back toward the west, interrupting the moment and causing both Sephiroth and the man to look in the direction it had come from.

"So easy to get caught up, isn't it?" Aristide said aloud, more of a thought than a question to be answered.

Aristide's hand withdrew, but Sephiroth had already grabbed hold of his sword, instinct taking over and pushing whatever thoughts he had been having entirely aside.

"I have to go," Sephiroth stated. It would have been with reluctance had his attention not been captured by the smoke coming from the brick building. So that _had_ been where the missiles were coming from...

"There's nothing you can do about it; not unless you find out who is controlling it, or just...blow it sky high," Aristide said, walking up behind the retreating Sephiroth.

"What? How do you know?"

"I checked the building myself. All those men you saw, they were there tending to the launcher. Some sort of technical problem or something," the man said offhandedly.

"It's electronically controlled from somewhere else, probably by satelite..." Sephiroth said to himself.

"Yes," Aristide said, walking toward Sephiroth. "Here." His hand disappeared into the pocket of his trenchcoat for a moment, before reappearing with an shining, ebony grenade. A strange symbol was elegantly painted on the outside of it, what appeared to be some sort of coat of arms. It was of two snakes encircling a horned goat that had a sly look about it.

Sephiroth looked at the man with a guarded expression, before reaching to accept the offered weapon. His movement was quick, suspicious, as he took it from the white palm. Sephiroth turned it over in his own hand for a few seconds, examining it, before he looked back at the man.

"Why are you helping me?" Sephiroth asked for the second time, his gut filled with paranoia.

"Quite the contrary, I'm doing precisely what you always assume I'm doing: I'm helping _me_. I can't have you running off just when this was all starting to get a little more...involved." Aristide grinned, giving full view of his white, pointed teeth. Sephiroth silently wondered if the stranger filed them to give himself a more animal-like appearance.

"Go on now," Aristide encouraged, his hands now clasped behind his back as he waited.

Sephiroth would have shook his head, but instead he turned back to the building. The grenade would blow up the launcher, however, it would also explode the missiles. They wouldn't go off, but they certainly would make quite a 'kaboom' and send shrapnel in every conceivable direction. Standing nearby...it wouldn't be the most intelligent idea.

The window, it _was_ where the missiles were coming from. He would definitely have to stand behind something far away if he wanted to go without his skin being imbedded with small metal splinters (or large splinters, he reflected).

"I wouldn't continue to stand there if I were you," Sephiroth said as he walked past, going toward one of the farther, sturdier-looking huts.

"Don't fret over me now; I might start believing you care," Aristide said in amusement, though he followed behind Sephiroth, walking over the dismembered corpses with little concern, as though they were branches rather than the remains of human beings.

Once they were both safely behind the mud hut, quite a distance from the brick building, Sephiroth popped the pin from the grenade.

"I hate to think what would become of the world if it was in your grasp," the man said jokingly.

"It would die," Sephiroth replied simply, levitating the grenade from his small hand and into the air. It floated steadily, due to Sephiroth's months of honing the skill with various objects in the lab.

The black grenade's speed increased steadily as covered ground and neared the window. It became a black blur. Finally it hurtled directly into the partially hidden launcher that must have cost Shinra as much as feeding and clothing the troops for a few years. Whoever was controlling Shinra's machinery and using it against the SOLDIERs, was about to lose what little leverage they had.

Sephiroth's fingertips were in his ears, but he knew it would do little good. The sound was going to be hell on his sensitive hearing.

To Sephiroth's shock, just as the explosion began, Aristide grabbed him, his arms tightly wrapping around Sephiroth's head and shoulders, and bringing the silver-haired head protectively to his chest.

The initial sound was like nothing the youth had ever heard, overpowering in a way that made his mind blank for several seconds. The ground shook, things creaked, and glass fractured and was propelled outwards. Bricks were cast aside like minuscule stones, and the metal of the launcher ripped like a tattered shirt would, from the sheer power and force.

The arms tightened around him, for some reason making him feel protected and somewhat needy when he wasn't even frightened. That animal smell of the man's breath was closer than ever, billowing down on his hair and eyelashes. He felt as though he was held in the grasp of some sort of beast.

Warmth radiated from the larger body, a sensation that Sephiroth had never felt. No one had ever bothered to hug him (it was hardly a hug though, he reasoned), or had ever had overcome their fear of him enough to think to do such a thing. He did his best to not allow his lower body to come into contact with Aristide's.

The explosion ended quickly, though its aftereffects would likely last for awhile.

Aristide released him when the danger was gone, his hands venturing to run through the light, soft hair that he couldn't seem to keep himself from touching. Sephiroth didn't make a show of being uncomfortable as he had before, instead saying and doing nothing as the man in front of him brushed the strands out of the way of his green cat-like eyes and pushed them behind his ears.

Sephiroth's ears were ringing from the horrendous noise from the blast, but he hardly noticed. He was bathing in the attention Aristide was offering up so easily. One of the clawed fingers traced along the bottom of Sephiroth's jaw, the gesture somehow feeling as though it were in reverence.

"We're going to the woods," he said abruptly, abandoning his ministrations as he apparently had little patience left. Aristide snatched up Sephiroth's hand before even allowing him to make a response.

"Why?" Sephiroth said cooly, though he very well knew why. He did not move from his spot to follow, though he did not try to get away either. He was put off by the man's suddenness, and he had still not come to any sort of conclusion about how he felt about the entire idea. His body felt one way, where as his instinct and mind felt another... Sephiroth's chest clenched painfully, a clear warning that he was not going to entirely ignore.

The man openly laughed and shook his head, his mane of black hair glistening in the sunlight like the scales of a black snake.

"My silver-haired angel, how coy of you! You continue to deny what you want, why? There is nothing to fear with me, have I not proven that yet?"

It _was_ true, he _had_ proven himself in a way, Sephiroth thought. As always, there was still that reluctance.

"Fine," Sephiroth said, finally, just as surprised by his own words as Aristide was.

A fine black eyebrow arched in response, and maroon eyes filled with a mischievous sparkle that rivaled any Sephiroth had ever seen.

"You mean it?" Aristide pressed, his grip already tightening on the smaller hand in his.

Sephiroth looked to the ground. Instinct hissed in protest, but at the same time the animal within seemed to be considering the idea. What would it mean? It was just something people did, wasn't it? He _felt_ like he needed it, but desire, from what he had seen at least, was a powerful thing. Need and want could so easily blur together...

Something in Sephiroth was curious to discover what sort of feelings he would have after he did such a thing. Would he feel attached to the man? Would he want Aristide more than just in body? Would that weakness finally get a strong hold on him and tear him from the path he had already begun to tread? So many questions seemed to stem from just the _idea_ of the act, all to do with doubts of his own will.

The voice of logic finally made the choice for him: how would he know at all if he never tried it? And besides...no one would ever have to know...

"Yes, I mean it," Sephiroth answered quietly, gauging Aristide's reaction.

Those eyes positively gleamed. There was something wicked in them, an edge of something that could only be described as barely contained insanity. It was in his happiness that Aristide's true animal clawed its way up into his skull and peered out through his eyes...

If only Sephiroth knew who he was making the deal with...

Aristide licked his lips, staring down at the teen predatorily. "Good."


	4. Becoming the Predator

A/N: I am one sick puppy. It's official now. I told myself I was just going to 'fine tune' the sex part...I added another 3 (nearly 4...) pages. I also feel the need to mention, this is my first ever slash story, and consequently, the first time I've tried my hand at m/m smut. That makes me nervous, but I took my time with this, so hopefully it will all be at least passable and no one will hate me.

This is the final chapter. Originally I had planned to write a 'future' chapter where Sephiroth met the Devil after he'd become General, however, this wrapped up a lot more nicely than I thought, and I don't want to ruin that. I got WAY too into this story for my own good, which is why I've worked so hard to complete it so quickly.

CornCob: I hope you like it...I slaved away for this chapter because I felt like such a mean, evil person. However, I have to admit, at the same time...I enjoyed torturing you--it was fun. I am the tiniest bit sadistic. :D

mcrmad: Aw. You made me feel all happy and joyful and stuff! :D

My muses for this chapter were: "Prison Sex" by Tool, "Give Yourself to Me" by Black Label Society, and "Deformography" by Marilyn Manson. Thought I should give those songs their due... Prepare to be exposed to Lucifer's complete impatience.

* * *

Sephiroth, rarely one to even remember what nervousness felt like, was feeling it. He felt as though he was about to do more than just share his body with someone.

Something, he thought wryly, he hadn't even done with himself. That was likely one of the reasons besides typical teenage hormones that he was so easily aroused by the slightest touch. Something about masturbation in a room full of other boys, had very little, if any appeal. And it wasn't as though he had the opportunity with Hojo around while he had been a more or less permanent resident of the labs.

And, truth be told, he had little inclination besides an occasional urge. He was interested in sex, however, that urge for him did not seem to translate into touching himself, strangely enough.

He reflected, as he looked over to Aristide who was walking beside him, that he was in fact, a _man_. Sephiroth had never given much thought as to who he would be interested in sexually, however, he had never suspected that it would include someone of the same sex he was. He supposed it didn't really matter, though it was probably something that shouldn't be acknowledged publicly to Shinra.

It was getting colder. The air's chill had worsened, as the sun was beginning to set. The sky, which had been somewhat cloudy most of the day, had become blanketed in greyness, which would probably make the night even darker than usual.

It wasn't necessarily a good idea on Sephiroth's part, he knew, to leave his position, but like most things, his attachment to Shinra was limited. Currently, what Shinra wanted mattered very little if it conflicted with what _he _wanted.

And he would ensure that it never became 'need'.

They had been walking for several minutes, going deeper and deeper into the wood, where different species of trees had started to appear, their colored leaves littering the forest floor alongside the pine needles of the more numerous and hardy trees of the region.

It was in a small clearing that they stopped, the orange and reds of the trees' leaves completely smothering the rich dirt beneath.

Aristide seemed to pause purposefully, for some reason letting the place sink into Sephiroth's memory, or perhaps to increase tension.

He laughed darkly, leaving Sephiroth's side and going to the center, which was surrounded with tall, black-barked trees. He spun around, his coat fluttering around his boots, a suggestive smile thrown in Sephiroth's direction. His movements were...playful.

"It's going to be cold," Aristide said, watching the apprehensive teen closely. He could tell that Sephiroth was, for once, utterly out of his element, though there was still a certain pride in the way he held himself, as though he were trying to shake the uncertainty off by willing it away.

It was that hidden, undying arrogance that made the teen so appealing. He was certain Sephiroth scarcely knew it existed in himself, but that didn't change the fact that it was there. Aristide would tend to it, inflame it, make it grow... Sephiroth was more than capable of being the best that would ever be, and Aristide had every intention of making that a reality, through whatever means necessary...

Not that it wasn't exactly what Aristide himself wanted to begin with. Of course it was. And he had no qualms about the fact that he had already planted the seeds and probably didn't need to be doing this. Hell, that just made it more fun...

Sephiroth was no idiot, and even with Aristide's attentions, it was obvious that the distrust already imbedded in the teen's personality would likely never be eradicated completely. That was good, it ensured that the boy wouldn't make the same stupid choices so often made by humanity.

Sephiroth only watched as Aristide removed his outer coat from his body, and carefully laid it out upon the ground.

Aristide's breath was easy to see in the cold, looking like a misplaced cloud as it rose around his head then disappeared. His long-sleeved undershirt fit tightly to his body, revealing that he was about average in build, not extremely slender as Sephiroth's youthful body was.

Black dress pants, similar to the blue ones Turks wore, Sephiroth noticed, were tucked into tall, knee-high boots. The man had settled himself on the trenchcoat for the time being, slowly unlacing his boots and watching Sephiroth, who was standing stoically, showing no reaction in either his eyes or face.

Inside, Sephiroth was burning. Every emotion was boiling and rising, trying to force its way out of him. He knew his pants were probably no longer hiding his feelings, but that didn't stop him from still trying to be in control of the situation.

This was his one chance to prove to Aristide, as well as himself that _he_ was in control. He would not be the nervous, pathetic teenage boy. He would not stand for it in himself. It was just another act, another function that he needed to learn. Once that was done, it would never have to be relearned and there never again would be a moment were it made him feel the insufferable weakness of _not_ knowing.

Sephiroth would not let any of it go beyond sex, or as Aristide put it, _want_. That resolve seemed to burn any reservations he had about what he was going to do. He felt much like he did before a battle: calm. He resigned himself to his fate...though somewhat excitedly.

"Come here," Aristide ordered, apparently through waiting for Sephiroth to approach him for himself.

Sephiroth walked toward the man on the ground slowly, taking in the maroon eyes and the too-white skin. He removed the sheath from his back, holding the lacquered covering that protected the sword within. He placed it close to the edge of the coat, Aristide's eyes never once straying from their observance of him.

For some reason, it eased Sephiroth's mind to know that his sword would be right next to him, should he need it. The forest was, after all, on the edge of a war zone.

He kneeled, then sat down next to Aristide, whose grin had become what anyone else would have called frightening. To Sephiroth it meant approval.

Before he could even settle himself, Aristide had already moved toward him, one arm positioned next to the teen's leg, those predatory eyes turned acutely red, and inches from his own. Aristide's body moved closer and closer, the heat of it mingling with Sephiroth's.

Aristide's mouth made its way to Sephiroth's neck, the fathomless eyes skimming over the youth's face, liking the slight apprehension there.

Before long, spindly fingers dug through Sephiroth's hair without the gentleness they had previously showed. They in fact seemed to claw at him, in effort to bring him closer. Sephiroth, though he felt invaded from the foreign contact, made no sign of dislike as the mouth began to make its way from the base of his neck to his ear. Sephiroth tilted his head to the side, allowing the man to have what he wanted.

The whitish lips tugged at the skin of his neck, possessive, dominant somehow. Then the tongue flicked out between them, touching lightly between the nips which only seemed to get rougher through the passing seconds.

That strong, pungent breath was overwhelming. It seemed to make the air around Sephiroth's face hot and wet, a stark difference from the temperatures around them.

Sephiroth was not unaffected. In fact, he had never felt anything like it, the way it was both pleasurable and personal, something that had previously struck him as two extremes incapable of being combined.

Aristide seemed to want to lower him onto his back, which at first Sephiroth did not allow, but he eventually gave in after receiving a sharp bite to the neck, and Aristide's surprisingly strong hands crushing down onto his chest. Sephiroth gave a rare smile, which Aristide saw.

"I want complete access..." he said in way of explanation, through heavy breathing and a short laugh, both of his sleeve-covered arms on either side of Sephiroth's head. He had pulled away from the teen's neck, to stare down at him.

Sephiroth, who had never touched someone else, had cast his gloves aside and brought a hand up to the shirt that was hanging down from Aristide's body. His tentative fingers moved the fabric aside, allowing his hand to rest against the overly-warm stomach.

Aristide grinned at the act of boldness. One of his own hands went under the shirt as well, placed over Sephiroth's, and giving it none-to-subtle directions.

The skin was...different. It did not feel like Sephiroth's own felt. It was similar to polished stone. It did not seem to have the give his had. From what he could tell, the man was toned, but not as Sephiroth himself was, from years of training. The feeling of Aristide's body was strange, though not unpleasant.

Both of their hands traveled upward, slowly. The feeling of touching, even somewhat innocently, was giving Sephiroth the urge to squirm from how everything between his legs was reacting. He had already begun to drown out his worries at not performing well; he was intent on enjoying whatever happened.

Their hands continued their slow ascent, coming to rest on one of Aristide's nipples, which they circled slowly. The chest, Sephiroth had noticed, had no body hair, yet another oddity that was Aristide, and coincidentally, was the same as Sephiroth.

Not only did the youth have no hint of hair anywhere (he had only realized this wasn't typical upon catching glimpses of the hair-covered chests of many of the other SOLDIERs), the hair that he did have on his head had grown in a silver-grey since the day he was born.

Aristide had not ceased his smiling, and bent down to let his lips touch briefly to Sephiroth's. The boy gave no reaction at first, though his eyes held curiosity. Aristide repeated the motion, his wet lips leaving a residue on Sephiroth's and making the slits of the boy's eyes expand slightly.

"No sure exactly what I'm doing, are you?" Aristide laughed a little, which made Sephiroth's hand pinch down on the nipple he'd been caressing, likely in retaliation for the comment.

Without warning, Sephiroth brought his mouth up to Aristide's and pulled the man to him by wrapping a hand about his white neck. What Sephiroth had not expected, however, was for Aristide's tongue to work its way between his lips and into his mouth.

The teen remained motionless for a moment as the tongue moved throughout his mouth, tasting, testing for sensitivity. The black hair of Aristide was hanging about them, touching Sephiroth's face and neck, distracting, though not half so much as whatever he was doing to the boy's mouth.

Sephiroth began to return the favor after a moment, taking his time, copying the movements, while he moved his hand that had been on Aristide's chest to the man's back.

The scent of Aristide's breath, was similar to the taste between his lips, almost bloody tasting. It was enticing to Sephiroth, and made the sensation all the more pleasant.

The kiss was beginning to become impatient very quickly on Aristide's part, as one of his hands began to deftly untuck Sephiroth's uniform from his pants. The teen stiffened, his breath hitched in his chest and his mouth and tongue suddenly stilled.

Aristide paid no attention to Sephiroth's discomfort, pulling away from the boy's mouth, which was already showing signs of becoming swollen. He yanked the collared jacket free of the pants, and forcefully shoved a hand up onto the youth's warm, muscled stomach.

He tensed, the muscles becoming taut, as the foreign hand relentlessly ran over the skin. The long nails bit into Sephiroth's chest, while the palms of the hand caressed and rubbed. Soon the other hand had joined it, both seeming to pet Sephiroth's sides.

Sephiroth, not one to be vocal, was breathing heavily. He was somewhat uncomfortable, but he was enjoying it.

Aristide could not seem to get quite what he wanted that way, and began to unbutton the jacket in haste. He didn't even bother to help Sephiroth free his arms of the material, instead his mouth went directly for one of the pink nubs, immersing it in his lips and tongue, while his hands snaked over the rest.

Sephiroth's hands had begun trailing up Aristide's back, encouraging him.

The boy's slender torso was enticing to Aristide, who appreciated the thinness of it as well as the build, which suggested discipline from the lean musculature. Each exhalation of breath played out the lovely dips of Sephiroth's body, putting them in relief, and giving the man all the more reason to make the teen breathe more heavily.

His mouth had ventured up toward Sephiroth's neck again, as one hand began its evil, tantalizing descent down that perfect belly, toward oblivion. Aristide had little intention of waiting.

Sephiroth, through the haze of pleasure, had noticed, and his body had again stiffened uncertainly in response.

Aristide's hot mouth returned to Sephiroth's cunningly, as distraction from the hand that was just beginning to go beneath the band of his slacks. It circled lazily a few times, moving over the perfectly smooth, hairless skin, those nails scratching at it slightly.

Then, without warning, it traveled ever lower, toward the heated flesh.

Sephiroth couldn't hold back the moan that rushed from his throat, as the somewhat cold hand wrapped around the base of his straining erection.

Instead of easing the teen into it, Aristide curled his hand harder, squeezing it into a fist, dangerous nails prodding painfully into the skin. Sephiroth couldn't stop his body from arching upward, toward the hand that he somehow realized was going to bring him more pain than pleasure.

Whatever feelings it would give, he wanted.

Aristide's hand, holding Sephiroth roughly in a too-tight grip, began a rushed up and down motion, which nearly made Sephiroth writhe. However, it was short-lived. Aristide seemed to be very irritable about the fabric that was in the way, making the task too difficult for his liking. The motion stopped quickly, before the youth had even begun to become accustomed to it.

The hand left Sephiroth's cock, as Aristide tugged at the buttons and the zipper of Sephiroth's pants. He pulled them down with his underwear, off of the thin thighs. He did it so quickly that the teen didn't even have a chance to be embarrassed at being so exposed.

He noticed too late that Sephiroth still wore his boots, so he worked at those, while Sephiroth shivered from the chilled air that his skin was naked to.

Sephiroth's erection was out for all of the world to see (or rather, the woods), but the thought didn't bother him as he had suspected it would. Somehow it seemed perfectly normal to be naked, laying on a coat with that man above him. There was something about Aristide that forced him to be relaxed even when every nerve was screaming for intense caution, and even 'flight'.

"Cold?" Aristide inquired, his eyes glimmering in the low light. A slight twist had formed his thin lips.

"A little," Sephiroth answered, the timbre of his voice a little lower than usual.

Aristide eyed Sephiroth's cock with relish, his hands moving up the slender, pale thighs, as he thoroughly appreciated the teen's slight shivers.

"You won't be," he said.

With that, Aristide immediately buried Sephiroth in his mouth, causing the boy to cry out from the shock of it, and the instantaneous intensity of the pleasure.

It was warm, so warm. The difference from being out in the cold to inside a heated, saliva-filled mouth was almost too much.

Sephiroth growled lustfully, his lower body no longer even on the coat beneath him. Aristide was already helping to hold him up, his hands encircling the boy's abdomen.

Aristide's long hair was fluttering playfully across his stomach, as the man's mouth began tightly sucking as it moved upward, the tongue curling around and slicking Sephiroth's cock.

Sephiroth, though completely inexperienced, knew he would not last long with such attention.

Aristide's movements had already become quicker, while Sephiroth desperately tried to keep himself from thrusting upward into the wetness that was undoing him. Aristide's mouth would take him deeper, then ease him back out again, all the while his nailed hands pinching and squeezing at Sephiroth's thighs.

Sephiroth's barely-there control did not last long.

With an few moments, his hands found their way into Aristide's hair, and luckily for him, the man didn't seem to mind the way the teen lost himself to oblivion. The boy forgot all inexperience and any reservations he still had, as he forcefully yanked Aristide's head down onto himself to allow him deeper thrusts.

Aristide, not one to mind being abused, moaned through his full mouth, his white fingers continuing to knead the youth's muscled legs as Sephiroth's dick slammed painfully into his throat. Repeatedly.

Sephiroth could feel the tightness building at the base of his spine, the way every bit of pleasure seemed to be culminating into something bigger, a finish. It was going to happen already, all because he was so inexperienced with anything touching his most private of parts, particularly an addictive, wet mouth.

The mouth, the saliva, was consuming for Sephiroth, who all his life had barely experienced even tiniest instances of sensation that didn't involve pain. The fact that at times Aristide's teeth seemed to rake over the hypersensitive skin, was not a drawback, but furthered the sense of abandon in him, quickened the pace at which he forced his lower body upward. It brought him closer and closer.

Sephiroth's head was thrown back, his normally pale face was flushed. The ribbons of silver hair were partially tangled from the boy lashing his head about in response to what he was feeling.

What happened next was the last thing Sephiroth, who was lost in completely primal want, had expected to occur.

Aristide forced the boy's hips downward, into the softness of the coat, stopping the teen's nearly psychotic thrusts. His mouth continued its ministrations, but even that was only for a few more precious seconds.

Sephiroth, who was annoyed by Aristide, had grabbed the man by his hair.

Aristide released Sephiroth from between his lips, just as the teen had been certain he was on the brink. His mouth was only a few inches away from Sephiroth's reddened erection, those animal maroon eyes looking over at the boy's frustrated face.

Sephiroth's eyes flashed with confusion for a few seconds, but soon followed the rest of his face into a look of fury.

"Why did you stop?" he said angrily, not liking at all the way the man was watching him. The red eyes held and arrogance and selfishness that unsettled Sephiroth.

"It's my turn," he stated.

He grabbed Sephiroth by the thighs forcefully. Effortlessly, Aristide threw Sephiroth onto his stomach, his painful erection pushing into the softness of the fabric.

The boy struggled, thrashing about and trying to turn back over, though the power of the man already spoke volumes about what he could do to him. Both of Aristide's hands were pinning him down, but even so, Sephiroth turned as much as he was capable to swing out at the man behind him.

Instead of stopping the man, Sephiroth's attempts caused Aristide to chuckle for a moment at the boy's struggle.

"Let go of me!" Sephiroth demanded, his tone venomous, though admittedly his cock was straining underneath him from having Aristide over him like that, so close. He could have easily grabbed for his sword, but for some reason he did not.

He did not regret his decision when those powerful arms finally encircled him to stop his wriggling.

"Be still," Aristide breathed, his mouth next to Sephiroth's ear, blowing strands of sleek, silver hair into the youth's face. "It will be better this way, I promise."

Though Sephiroth didn't believe him, he said nothing. He did not bother to hide the sour expression on his face, as he knew Aristide could not see it. Sephiroth felt as though he had just lost something, failed some sort of test of himself, but Aristide's labored, excited breathing behind him quelled the thoughts quickly.

Aristide pushed Sephiroth's thighs underneath him, so that the teen was on his knees, his back to the man. Sephiroth's posture was no longer loose, but stiff and difficult to manipulate.

Sephiroth's mood radiated irritation and anger at being under someone else's control, but instead of worrying Aristide that he had gone too far, the thought made him smile sadistically.

He snatched the back of Sephiroth's jacket, finally forcing the teen to take it off completely. The muscled, bare back was revealed. It showed suggestions of broadening later in life, but was still very narrow, tapering dangerously in at the boy's waist and hips. The narrowness would have been feminine, had Sephiroth not been as toned as any athlete.

Aristide removed his shirt easily, shrugging it off and to the side, then unbuckled his slacks and slid them down to his knees.

His cock was painfully erect, and barely affected by the short stint in the freezing air. Aristide caressed it a few times, sliding the drops of precum onto the shaft.

"I want you to set your legs farther apart," he ordered, his hand reverently smoothing over one of Sephiroth's perfect thighs, leaving the tiniest bit of stickiness behind.

Sephiroth, though still vengeful, nonetheless, did as he was told. He knew Aristide was naked behind him, his dick not far from Sephiroth's own body. The thought made the boy shiver excitedly. He was slightly disappointed that he wasn't going to see what Aristide was doing, but he had no time to think about it as the man continued.

Aristide pushed the flesh aside, revealing the small, closed pink patch. Sephiroth felt more exposed than ever, though he made no move to stop the man. He wasn't about to give Aristide reason to not go through with what he wanted, and also, what _he_, Sephiroth wanted.

A hand came down onto Sephiroth's shoulders, as Aristide said, "Rest your head on your arms."

Sephiroth's fists clenched at the demand, and his defiant mind told him to disobey. Aristide seemed to sense that the teen wasn't pleased, and placed a few gentle kisses across his beautiful body.

"Don't be stubborn, now," Aristide said, sounding amused. At the words, and the lightness of a few more kisses across his back, Sephiroth yielded.

He had already decided would be the first and only time.

Aristide applied a copious amount of saliva to his palm and moved it over himself.

The view from where he was wasn't exactly hard to look at. Sephiroth had his ass in the air, and his lovely silver-haired head laid submissively on his arms.

It was a sight Aristide secretly knew he would be the only one to ever see.

He bridged the distance between their bodies, feeling the tension that had riveted through Sephiroth's. He pushed against the pink skin slowly, pushing the head of his cock lightly against it, testing.

But he had never been a patient man. Without any more preparation, he moved forward hard enough that Sephiroth's small body was forced to accept it, and the resistance gave way.

Aristide was slow enough to only let himself enter inch by wonderful inch, holding Sephiroth's cheeks apart with his hands to make the process slightly easier.

Sephiroth had tensed considerably, and let out a loud breath as Aristide pushed in further. He could feel himself stretching to accommodate, and an ever-growing friction that was beginning to start from body part rubbing against body part.

Finally, Aristide relinquished a portion of his own self-control. He completed the union, fully plunging himself into Sephiroth's welcoming body with a heavy sigh.

Sephiroth, who Aristide had thought would either scream or cry out in pain, let out a short moan of pleasure. Unexpectedly, when Aristide began to thrust in and pull back, very slowly for the first few times, he could feel the body beneath him loosen and relax. Short little gasps came from the teen's mouth with the slightest movement of the thing inside of him.

"Not so bad, is it?" Aristide stated, forcing himself in particularly hard, to see what sort of reaction Sephiroth would give.

Sephiroth was overwhelmed. The feeling of being filled was...beyond anything he had expected. It wasn't painful as he thought it would be; it was more a combination of pleasure with pain, where the two were so intertwined that there seemed to be no difference. 'Pain' wasn't even quite the word to use. He didn't know what it was exactly, only that it was already forcing him to the edge he had been teetering on before.

He gasped even louder at Aristide's attentions, as the pace increased, and the force behind it grew.

Aristide continued to plunder the young, perfect body, his pointed nails leaving bloody lines across the previously unmarked thighs. He gripped onto Sephiroth with no care for his comfort, and was pleased to discover that the more pain involved, the more the teen seemed to struggle against the coat, his hands twisting the material and his moans growing louder, filling the formerly silent woods.

Sephiroth thrust backward against the man experimentally, causing Aristide to growl deeply from his chest. Something in Sephiroth preyed on that response, and before long, Sephiroth was shoving himself into the warm body behind him like a whore would, loving the feeling of his backside hitting Aristide's hard legs, causing more delicious friction.

Aristide knew that even though it had not been long, Sephiroth was going to cum soon. The boy was breathing louder and louder, his backward motion on the verge of being considered frantic. He catered to the teen's needs as well as his own, refusing to slow.

Aristide thoughtfully reached around to squeeze Sephiroth's testicles roughly, just as the boy was seemed to be nearly ready. The move caused Sephiroth's hips to crash into Aristide's even harder, as the man fisted his balls relentlessly, then grabbed onto Sephiroth's slightly wet cock with his other free hand.

Aristide was bent over him, his black-maned head laying on Sephiroth's back, both for balance, and to allow his mouth to bite at the pale skin that was at his mercy, while his hands continued to squeeze at Sephiroth's most sensitive parts.

Sephiroth's body went rigid as he came, his moan muffled by the coat as he hid his face in it, the scent of Aristide on it making the explosion all the more intense. Aristide clutched at Sephiroth's thighs, feeling the sphincter contract, tightening and releasing as the teen spilt himself onto the black coat beneath him. Sephiroth shook, his hands tearing at the fabric, as he gave a final loud gasp, and his body finally loosened from its rigidity and relaxed.

Aristide laughed, kissing Sephiroth's back wetly. He allowed his hot breath to ghost over the pale skin, which had a few small beads of sweat on it, even in the cold. He rubbed his face over it reverently for a few moments, his lower body still instinctively moving in and out of the spent Sephiroth, though much more slowly due to his own distraction.

Finally Aristide repositioned himself, pulling his upper body away from the one beneath him. His hands left the boy's finished cock, and went back to the thighs they had been neglecting.

His thrusts became more brutal than ever. He pulled in and out of Sephiroth unceasingly, bruising the white thighs with the cruel hold his hands took on them.

It was finally his turn to get what _he_ wanted of the boy's body.

It didn't take long for Sephiroth to rouse himself from his post-orgasmic sluggishness to begin meeting Aristide thrust for thrust again, though his head was laying contentedly on his arms, and his eyes were closed. He was no longer purely a body seeking pleasure. It allowed him the ability to really enjoy and _feel_ Aristide, every brush of their bodies and each movement of the cock inside of him.

It was at least another twenty minutes before Sephiroth felt the thighs behind him tense, the hold on his legs becoming almost unbearably tight. Sephiroth himself was already at full hardness again, thanks to the quick recovery teenaged hormones offered. That, combined with the knowledge that Aristide was close, elicited a pleasurable groan from Sephiroth. He still had his head resting on the coat as he reached around used his hands to open himself wider apart to allow Aristide less resistance.

The man seemed to appreciate the sentiment, because he moaned louder as he rocked back and forth against what was willingly offered.

Fully sheathed in Sephiroth, Aristide growled as he reached his peak, the sound unhuman and harsh, echoing through the semi-dark woods as a wolf's piercing howl would.

The sound made Sephiroth shiver, as something inside him seemed to react to the odd noise.

Aristide's hair was hanging over Sephiroth's back, from the man keeping his head down, his chest expanding rapidly then declining, with his heavy breathing.

"Fuck..." Aristide said simply, not moving for a few moments as he enjoyed the pleasure still coursing through his body. The feeling of complete tiredness was already descending on him.

"Does it always feel like this?" Sephiroth asked quietly, after a long silence.

Aristide grinned, though Sephiroth couldn't see it. "Only if you are lucky."

Aristide moved back from Sephiroth, allowing his cock to slowly retreat out of him. He then moved to the side of the boy and stretched out beside him on the coat, far too lazy to do anything for at least a few minutes.

Sephiroth changed from his awkward position, rolling over onto his back. All he could see were the leaves of the trees, which blocked out what little light was left; he couldn't even see the sky. He looked over at Aristide, who had his eyes closed, his odd, white skin making Sephiroth's paleness look much less so in comparison.

Sephiroth took a glance at the spent cock that rested between the man's legs, liking it, as he knew he was the cause.

The thought made him smile.

Aristide's eyelids fluttered open, and he looked over to Sephiroth finally, his leer caught on the very apparent arousal of the boy.

Now that he had finally been satiated, Aristide's hurried demeanor had burned out somewhat.

He rose to all fours, then positioned himself over Sephiroth, who had his eyes closed. The boy was an angel. His face was like that of a porcelain doll, with arched silver brows and thick black lashes. Aristide continued to stare down at the boy, taking in all of the features slowly and methodically. He hadn't allowed himself the proper time to just enjoy looking at the creature….

Sea-green looked up at him after a moment, questioning.

"What?"

Aristide grinned. His hand was resting on one of the boy's thighs, which had been marred by his long, sharp nails. He leaned down, bringing his lips to the flesh, his maroon eyes never leaving Sephiroth's.

Sephiroth seemed to understand the man's intentions, because he moved his hips slightly in response.

Aristide neared Sephiroth's cock, liking how the boy's eyes grew wider suddenly. He gently moved his head so that the skin of his cheek and jaw brushed against it.

Sephiroth's breath had already started to quicken.

Aristide licked his lips, then planted a kiss on the base. He nuzzled his face into it before adding another and another.

Sephiroth was shrinking almost painfully from being out in the cold so long, but Aristide paid little mind, as he kissed all the way around Sephiroth's length, and between his thighs. He gave the boy's balls a lick, which caused Sephiroth to twitch unexpectedly.

He moved back to Sephiroth's cock, while a hand began to slowly caress his balls, much more gently than ever before.

Aristide placed his other hand around the base, as he neared the head with his mouth. He kissed it a few times, then licked, which brought a gasp.

"I was thinking we could try something a little different," Aristide said enigmatically.

He spit directly onto Sephiroth's length, smoothing the wetness over it, most particularly the tip.

Sephiroth, who had said nothing, only watched, curious.

He was very surprised when Aristide moved over him, facing away. The man was bent kneed, one leg on either side of Sephiroth's abdomen. Aristide moved backward a ways, until he was satisfied that he was where he needed to be. He began to position himself over the boy's cock, his hands holding onto Sephiroth's white legs for balance.

"Don't worry, I think you'll quite like it…"

Aristide parted his buttocks as Sephiroth had before, slowly moving down.

Sephiroth had ceased to breathe properly, his breath held in his lungs, as he watched Aristide's body descend down on him. It was happening so fast, he hardly had the time to even think about it properly. But he wanted it, that much was clear.

Sephiroth slowly placed his hands around Aristide's waist. He lifted his hips upward, deciding to meet Aristide halfway. He was nervous and horribly aroused, all at the same time, as he looked at the back of the man squatting above him.

Aristide's ebony hair was trailing down his back, and his round ass was parted for Sephiroth to use at his leisure.

Sephiroth could feel the skin pressing against him, from all sides, as their bodies met and Aristide removed his hands. Tentatively, Sephiroth moved between it, not really pushing, when he quickly found a tiny barrier. Sephiroth rubbed the head of his cock into it, pushing a little, bit not really getting anywhere other than more aroused by the position he was in.

"Push hard," Aristide instructed.

Sephiroth breathed heavily, his whole torso back to rigidity as his excitement grew. Sephiroth gave a harder thrust upward, just as Aristide lowered himself a bit more. It was enough that Sephiroth felt the skin suddenly open to his prodding.

He moaned loudly, not bothering to be slow about it as he pushed his entire length into the tightness that had given way to him, his balls hitting pleasurably against Aristide's.

It was Aristide's turn to gasp, as Sephiroth began moving in and out of the opening, his hands gripping onto the man's sides possessively.

It felt different than Aristide's mouth had, being much more constrictive, with no teeth or tongue in the way of things. It made Sephiroth exploit it more than he had Aristide's mouth. He could push much more harshly, banging his body into Aristide's each and every time.

He groaned, moving hurriedly, almost forgetting there was a person attached to the hole he was forcing his way into. The animal in him seemed to purr at all of it, driving him on with both instinct and blind pleasure-seeking that came from utter selfishness.

Sephiroth was beginning to understand why Aristide had been so quick about getting to this part of all of it. It seemed a waste to kiss and touch when there was something so warm and slick to be inside of.

He could already feel the familiar build up again, which was disappointing. His body wanted to finish so quickly, when all he wanted was for it to continue on and on.

There was something about being the one in control that felt so…right. Though he had certainly enjoyed letting Aristide have his way, Sephiroth knew that had he the choice, he would be the one who made the other cry out and writhe.

And Aristide was crying out. His thighs were shaking from holding him up, as the boy below him used his body like it belonged to him.

He continually stroked himself, allowing the boy to have his fill of whatever he would take. Sephiroth learned quickly, that was certain.

Finally, Sephiroth completely let go, his eyes closing and rolling back as he pushed himself in to the hilt for the last time. He had no care for dragging it out at that point, allowing his hips to buck and finally seize as he released, hands keeping Aristide flush with his own body. He groaned deeply, from far within his chest as Aristide had while in him, his body halfway off of the ground.

"Good boy," Aristide said, his voice lustful. He reached down and petted one of Sephiroth's thighs.

After a long moment the teen finally allowed his hips to rest on the coat, which forced him to let go of Aristide.

He didn't even notice as the man moved around to face him, with a look that was a little more tender than the man would have probably have wanted Sephiroth to see.

Aristide dropped a hand onto the boy's belly, rubbing it gently with his thumb. Sephiroth's hair was everywhere, his perfect face tinted lightly with red from his effort. Aristide smiled, pleased, as he took in the boy's glowing eyes and serene expression. It was a sight to behold, as they say.

"Did you enjoy that?" Aristide asked, still caressing Sephiroth's stomach.

The boy took a second to collect himself, his small tongue reaching out to lick at his parched lips. "Yes."

Sephiroth would have said it was the most enjoyable thing that had happened to him, but he refrained. Aristide already thought he owned him as it was.

"It is a wonder humans constantly try to distance themselves from all that is primal when it is so…rewarding."

"Stupidity?" Sephiroth answered lazily, his eyes focused on the sky he couldn't see.

"It must be. Or perhaps a fear of going to hell, combined with an ego that demands they separate themselves from the so called 'beasts'," Aristide stated, his eyes looking off into the distance.

"If this is what being a monster is, I'll accept it gladly," Sephiroth said honestly, speaking more than just of sex.

Aristide laughed that deep, comforting laugh of his. "You already are one."

* * *

Sephiroth awoke, having no idea that he had fallen asleep in the first place. His eyes opened very slowly, sluggishly, as though he had been drugged. He immediately noticed that it was night, and that some of the cloud cover must have passed, because there was moonlight drifting in between the branches of nearby trees. How long could he have been asleep?

The next thing he realized, was that Aristide was gone.

His mind seemed to panic for a moment, as he looked over at the empty spot beside him.

Aristide had left him. The words seemed to take their time sinking in, before a bitter thought took hold in the boy's head.

Just like Masamune did, just like everyone did, eventually.

He looked about, though he already knew he would find no one. The same part of him that had convinced him to give himself to a stranger felt slightly betrayed. He sat up, taking another glance around, but he heard nothing, and saw no one.

Gone.

His body was chilled, but not as bad as it would have been had he not been partially covered by part of Aristide's coat. It had been draped over him, one of Aristide's few mercies, apparently.

He picked himself up off of the hardened, freezing ground, feeling soreness in new places as he bent down to retrieve his clothes. He snatched them up and pulled them over himself quickly, feeling a slight bite of disappointment inside, though nothing like the strong intensity he would have predicted.

The coat was still there, discarded.

Sephiroth glared at it for a moment, before approaching it. He could make out the whitish stain he'd made upon it, like a sick reminder. He sighed, somehow not quite angry, because he had already known it all would happen. He had known Aristide was not exactly the type to stick around.

He grabbed the coat anyway, slinging it over his shoulder, before noticing, with a clench of his gut, that his sword was missing. The sheath was gone, as was the weapon itself.

Sephiroth cursed aloud, spinning around, his mako enhanced vision searching in vain for what he knew he wouldn't find.

The bastard had stolen his sword.

He continued to look, his demeanor changing from indifferent to infuriated without much effort. He had trusted Aristide enough to sleep with him, and the man went and ran off with his weapon. It was just more proof, more evidence for Sephiroth to stack up in his mind and use each time he took a life.

_People mean pain._

Just as Sephiroth was about to resign himself to despising Aristide, his eyes caught a flicker of something shiny that glistened in the moonlight, off to his right.

The place was not that far away, but the trees seemed to lean over the spot, making it a little more shadowed than anywhere else.

He walked toward the glimmering slowly, then finally came to a halt in front of, what could only be described, as a dai katana, imbedded in the earth.

The sword must have been at least 6 feet tall, because the handle was a few inches above Sephiroth's head, with quite a bit of the metal buried to hold it upright and stable. Sephiroth looked at it in amazement.

A thin piece of blood red ribbon was tied about the top, with a small piece of parchment attached. Sephiroth deftly untied the ribbon, allowing himself a moment to breathe, as he eyed the note suspiciously, yet at the same time, he reflected hatefully, with hope.

In tight, almost calligraphical script, it read simply:

**Use it to cut your path.**

Sephiroth stared at the note a long time. Had he been the sentimental type, he would have cried a little, but instead he felt that coldness seeping into his skin, poisoning his mind. It was the same part of him that had allowed his tortured emotions reprieve not long after the death of Masamune. It was the part that had torn all guilt from his conscience, permanently.

He was changed, though he wasn't quite sure how it had occurred. The experience, which should have made him feel more in touch with at least one person, left him feeling dead inside. A part of him acknowledged that he would likely never see Aristide again. He had also come to realize that physical closeness was not the same or a substitute for the mental closeness he thought would be a result of all of it.

He had feared that through the act of sex, of comfort in a sense, he would become a sickening, all too typical representation of what every other person was: dependent. Needy.

Aristide, though a comrade in some ways, was like Sephiroth always secretly knew he himself was: forever alone. There was never to be an undying connection between Sephiroth and anyone else; it was not who he was. There was something sad about the answer, but at the same time, Sephiroth couldn't help but smile arrogantly.

He looked down at the sword he had ripped from the ground. He held it in both hands, feeling like a child borrowing and adult's sword. Sephiroth's eyes skimmed over the shimmering, mirror-like surface possessively. The moonlight seemed to give it a wicked gleam.

There was so much beauty in something so deadly.

* * *

A/N: I hope it was alright. I was going to post this earlier then I had a freakout moment where I decided I wanted to change a bunch of it. I ended up spending another 4 hours doing corrections, being my obsessive self. Anyway, I had a great time writing it, the feedback was wonderful, and made me feel special :)


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